


Daryl's Binding Situation

by FightTheThorn



Category: Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Before, Bondage, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Sexual Bondage, Rope Bondage, VUC - Very Unimportant Characters, Walkers, Walkers (Walking Dead), Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-12
Updated: 2013-07-19
Packaged: 2017-12-19 06:56:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/880777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FightTheThorn/pseuds/FightTheThorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[[Before The Walking Dead]] Daryl finds himself a few weeks into the Zombie Apocalypse. It's really nothing different, just a new animal they can't eat that wants to eat them. He finds some humans who mean him harm, but they're not Walkers. Daryl attempts to escape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> Really, REALLY wanted to tie Daryl up. So... that's what happened. Completely non-sexual, please enjoy. Comments are welcomed... and anyone who can suggest a better summary... I would thank you.

"Look at this hick, in the woods by himself." 

Daryl gulped as he saw the hunters had surrounded him. 

He’d come running into the woods, chasing after a deer. Since the Walkers came, he didn’t think anyone besides his brother Merle and him would be roaming through the trees looking for food. Usually they would have to be careful, but with everything going on it hadn’t crossed his mind.

Daryl was a young man in his twenties, thin, but with a little muscle build. His hair fell into his eyes, the back long enough to be tied back into a ponytail. His facial hair grew in patches since it’d been a few weeks. He hadn’t thought to wear much on the hunt, just some jeans and an old beat up shirt.

He glared around him. The longer he talked to these dicks, the farther the deer would get. Well… maybe that was the least of his worries right now. "What do ya want?" 

The leader, or who Daryl assumed was the leader, snickered. He stood tall amongst the others and he didn’t have a weapon on him. "We know you’re after the deer. We’ve been tracking it for days and we ain’t gonna let some dick swoop in and take our meal."

Daryl's jaw tightened. He couldn’t stop from glancing over his shoulder as constantly as he could. If one of these assholes made a move, he wanted to make sure he was quick to react. He wouldn’t let anyone get the jump on him if he could help it. It would be difficult to fight the seven men just on his own. He would have suggested they share it, but at the same time, his pride wouldn’t let him. Seven of them, probably more back at their camp. They’d eat the whole deer on their own. 

He swallowed as he tried not to look to his left. When he heard the car coming his way, he tossed his crossbow into the bushes. In the silence of the trees it wasn’t hard to pick up a few rowdy voices from far away. Daryl hid it there to keep his only weapon away from them. Maybe he’d even look a tad less menacing if he didn’t have a weapon on him.

His hair was tangled and mussed, the result of being nowhere and in need of a shower for weeks. It’d gathered a leaf and some twigs in the matted strands. Daryl had been running through the woods, crouching down often to look for deer tracks. 

Daryl felt sweat beads beginning to fall from his face. It’d been a good few hours since he’d left camp, following animal tracks the whole way. It was no wonder his body was worn. The fear of murderous Walkers on top of the hunt. Whatever the case, Daryl was in no condition to take the hunters on. 

He figured there wasn't much point in being polite if the hunters were just going to beat the tar out of him. It seemed to be the most possible scenario. "What if I'm still interested in that deer? I've been tracking it for a few hours and I'm closer to getting it than y’all are." 

The leader frowned. "Looks like we’ve got a competitor, boys. Hey, Jeremy. How ‘bout you get the rope out of the truck? It looks like we'll have to detain him."

Jeremy nodded. “Sure, Eric.” He broke the circle, heading for the truck.

The moment Daryl saw it as an opening, he felt a gun press square against his back. Daryl heard the weapon click. 

"Why don't we just kill him? The Biters'll do it anyway. I say it’s a waste of good rope."

"Y’know the rules. We don't kill humans unless they give us a reason. We truss him up and if he can't get free by the time some Biters come sniffin', then it's his fault." 

The leader stepped forward, grinning now. "Think of it as a game, hick. If you can get free and to the deer before us, then you can have it."

Daryl didn’t back down, glaring daggers at him. ' _There's no way I'm just gonna take this... Merle'd beat the living shit out of you if he was here._ ' He looked over his shoulder as Jeremy walked up behind him.

Jeremy grabbed one of Daryl's arms, but the redneck reacted instinctively. 

Daryl swung around, pushing the leader back and planting his fist square in Jeremy’s face. He heard the sound of other guns raise, quickly turning around to see all the men had him in their scopes.

Their leader growled this time, pushing from the ground to stand. "Help him out Louis.”

Louis seemed hesitant, but he too followed orders, helping Jeremy up. 

"We've got guns, boy. Better take it slow or they really will kill you."

It was out of his hands now.

\---

Daryl let out a snarl as Louis and Jeremy finished binding the rope around his body. He didn’t have much choice in how it happened. He was forced into a kneeling position before the leader. The rope lashed around his ankles wrapped around then slipped between his legs, his hands bound in the same way. His torso felt the thick rope, keeping his arms behind him in case he ever freed his hands. Finally his knees took the rest of the rope.

He tried not to struggle, tried not to show them they’d done a good job of making him helpless before them. 

The fuckers had him tied hand and foot and made damn sure he wouldn’t be able to get out. This was just from judging the way his arms were already starting to feel numb. ' _This's what I get for punching that retard._ ' 

"All done." Jeremy finished a knot on Daryl's legs, smirking as he looked Daryl over. His nose was bleeding a little and he definitely made the ropes extra tight in revenge.

“Fuckers think you can do this to me? Better watch your backs. Don’t see me as a threat now, but if I find ya again, I’ll make damn sure ya’d wish ya’d killed me now!" Daryl thrashed at his ropes, the strain audible as he subtly tested his bindings.

These guys knew what they were doing; the rope was tight all around, not a single loop-hole Daryl could find right off the bast. 

"Gag him before we go. The redneck needs to learn his place." The leader walked to him, lowering himself down to Daryl's level. "It's sad you'll become a meal, but you know what?" He reached his hand out and slapped one of Daryl's cheeks. "This gag'll be a favour from me to you." He stood; walking passed him to the truck.

Daryl was about to shout back, toss in a few more insults, but when he opened his mouth one of these dicks took the opportunity to shove something putrid in his mouth. He was about to spit it out before the same guy forced a cloth between his teeth and tied a knot behind his head. 

He let out muffled insults, pulling at the rope in anger. Daryl turned his head as best as he could to see all the guys piling into the truck and riding off after his meal. 

Each of them were laughing at him, pointing at how pitiful he was as they drove away.


	2. The Escape

It was at least an hour of struggling.

Daryl bit down hard on the cloth, gnashing at it as he tried, in vain, to grab a knot in the rope. He could feel sweat falling down his face, his whole body sore from the tight rope lashed around his body, and his spirit was waning. 

He closed his eyes, swallowing; shaking his head as he tasted what had to be a sock. It tasted like sweat and knowing the situation they’d all been in, it probably wasn’t clean. Daryl sighed, letting his body relax in the rope as he tried to think the situation through.

In his struggles, dirt slipped under his finger-nails and he even tasted some of it in his mouth. He’d teach those fuckers not to mess with him.

His brother wasn't too far from there, maybe a few miles back. It was obviously far enough away Merle didn’t hear the truck and come running. Still, if he could get his feet free at the very least, he would stand a better chance of getting back. He could run home and maybe still get after the deer.

Daryl pulled at his ropes, trying to prop himself up, but he didn't succeed. He fell back down with the little progress he made ending in a thud.

He huffed, deciding to lay there for a little longer. There had to be a better way.

A thought had crossed his mind, which was immediately tossed as he heard a gurgling noise coming from the trees in front of him. Daryl’s eyes widened as he saw a Walker making its way out of the trees. 

Daryl’s mind went blank as he saw this mangled beast inching closer.

Its dead, glazed over eyes moved with the loll of its head, arms at its side swinging like they were broken, and its feet shuffling against the ground. It was wearing one of the hunting vests the hunters in town would wear, long scuffed and torn jeans, both dried with blood. The teeth were rotted and many missing, flesh and blood caught between them. He could see where this person was bitten, multiple times. 

He felt blood pumping through his veins or at least the veins that weren’t blocked off by rope.

The dick was right. Daryl was going to be eaten or turned.

To his right, Daryl found some bushes he could inch towards. The Walker hadn’t caught him yet, but he was sure it could smell him. He made his way over, avoiding twigs and whatever could make a noise as he wiggled along. He felt dirt slip into his shirt, rubbing against his chest as he struggled. Daryl felt the grass underneath him, fighting against time and his bonds. 

Daryl bit down hard on his gag, feeling his heart start to pound against his chest.

The Walker stepped toward him. It noticed him, starting to walk a little faster, prey in sight.

Daryl let out a terrified breath as he rolled the rest of the way, but in his haste, he found the bush hung over the embankment. He toppled down and into the nearby river.

The thought of drowning flashed in Daryl’s mind and for the moment he fell, he decided he’d have rather taken his chance with the Walker. Daryl tumbled into the water head first, his whole body covered by water. It pushed him around, flipped him over, and left him gasping for air whenever he broke the water’s surface. He thrashed against his bonds wildly, pulling and struggling with all his might. His mouth was full of this water, choking him as he fought to breathe.

Daryl felt desperate to get free. He pushed his bound feet against the water, praying it would be enough to force him to the surface.

He felt the current dragging him along, peeking him out to breathe quickly through his nose. His mind was blank as he simply tried to get air, but eventually the water thinned out, allowing him to keep above the water a little more often.

It didn’t take long for the current to simply push him along at a slow pace. The river crawled, giving Daryl enough time to find a rock he could push his body against while he thought about his next move. 

Daryl spit out what water he could, taking a moment to breathe properly. He let out a groan into his gag as he looked around for something helpful. The rope was bound around his torso, his hands, knees, and legs, he had to cut one of them away at the very least. Preferably the rope around his torso, since it did more damage to his situation than the others.

He looked about frantically, trying to find something, anything. Daryl hoped since the rocks in this river took a lot of the current, one of them might be sharp enough to help him get free. 

It wouldn’t be hard for his hands at this point, but the rope tied around his torso would keep his hands awkwardly behind him or at his side. 

He eventually found a suitable rock after what felt like half an hour of searching. He locked his jaw in determination, getting some leverage against the rock the current was pushing him against and pushed the best he could to another.

Daryl took the rock and tried to cut at rope around his wrists. He felt the rock nick him a few times, small trickles of blood fell into the water. Eventually, he got both his hands free noticed a small patch between the shore and the rock he was settled up against. He used the rock to stand, pushing against it and slowly wriggling up until he was somewhat standing. 

His whole body felt stiff. Daryl’s bonds were cutting into his body and a great deal of his body had already fallen numb or were almost gone.

He huffed into his gag, raising his eyes to look around for something. Daryl knew, at the very least, as long as he was protected by the water around him, he wouldn’t have to worry about Walkers getting him. It was a small relief, but he took it. 

Daryl’s eyes scanned the area, intent on finding something he could use to free himself. He stretched his hands, first into fists, then relaxing them. The blood would take a little longer to get back into his hands, but he could already feel the tingle of pain. 

Damn did Daryl love those beer drinking hunters. Someone had just thrown a beer bottle down near the shore. It had shattered into a few pieces, but it was exactly what he needed. He never did like the taste of it himself, but whoever shattered this bottle had just saved his life.

He hopped the best he could over the rocks. If he had just wormed across it, his whole body would be bleeding, not as if he’d feel it with these ropes cutting off all his circulation. The moment he reached the shore, he let himself fall, too tired to keep his balance steady.

‘ _I never can get a break._ ’ He glanced over his shoulder, hearing the gurgling sound he’d become so accustomed to in the last few weeks. 

Another Walker. 

It was standing a few feet above him, walking around with a dislocated arm. 

He didn't think it saw him, but he knew those cuts on his hands would attract it. 

Daryl struggled, pulling at the ropes around his torso, trying to be as quiet as possible. He had at most a couple minutes for this Walker to notice him, come down to where he was, and kill him. 

Again he weighed the odds, wondering if it would be best to drown than be eaten alive, but he didn’t plan on letting either happen.

His grunts must have let the Walker know where he was, because it turned to look down at him and started to shamble along the bank.

Daryl hurried to the beer bottle shard, worming his way to it as he heard the Walker making its way down. 

He grunted, relieved as he managed to get closer to the shard. Daryl turned around, grabbing at it. The blood made it hard to grab it. He might have had a few extra cuts thanks to it, but with impending death reaching after him, he didn’t notice. 

As he finally felt the glass between his bloody fingers, he grabbed it, thanked God, and started to cut. Daryl heard the snap of the rope around his body and let out a sigh. ‘ _Fuck I hate these. Can’t believe Merle was into this shit._ ’ Daryl rubbed his arms and looked around, searching for the Walker.

The Walker found its way down and was behind him, gurgling as it rushed ever closer.

Daryl’s eyes widened as he saw the Walker, slashing madly at the rope around his knees, throwing away the remains before starting for the rope around his ankles. 

He let out shout behind his gag as the Walker lunged.

Daryl turned around and kicked it in the chest with his feet.

The beast stumbled back. 

He slashed at the rope, standing up as the Walker recovered. 

Without missing a beat, Daryl was on the Walker. He pushed it back onto the ground, straddled it and stabbed it repeatedly in the skull with the bottle shard.

It stopped moving after the second hit, but Daryl was so frustrated and angry he just kept on and on until the skull looked like deflated jelly. He left the glass in the ugly thing’s face, or what was left of it, reaching behind his head and untying the knot. 

He pulled the cloth from between his teeth and let it rest around his neck, immediately spitting the sock out.

Daryl pushed himself to stand, feeling a little weak. He fell to the ground, using his hand to catch his fall. He spit a few times, trying to clear his mouth of this awful taste. It wasn’t long before he moved to rest on his back. He breathed in and out heavily, enjoying his freedom.

He licked his lips as he rubbed his sore body. “Those dicks’re gonna pay. I’m gonna get that damn deer and I’m gonna beat the fuck out of whoever’s sock that was.” Daryl looked around him and pushed to stand. He began to climb up the embankment, following the river stream back up for a while until he reached where he’d been ambushed. 

There weren’t any Walkers around, thank God, but he didn’t let his guard down as he headed toward the bushes. He pulled his crossbow from the bush, checking it for damages. It seemed find, old, but fine. 

In one motion, he slung it over his arm, feeling it bump against his shoulder. 

Daryl knelt down beside the deer tracks, cracking his knuckles as he found the lead again. He stood, heading out; determined to get the deer before they did… and if the opportunity arrived, he’d teach them a lesson.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not, nor will I ever, own The Walking Dead. All credit goes to the makers of the series and the actors. (The original characters are mine, but I don't want them.)


End file.
